


This game we play in silence

by Higgystar



Category: Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Adult baby, Age Play, Kink Meme
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-03
Updated: 2014-07-03
Packaged: 2018-02-07 05:33:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1886871
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Higgystar/pseuds/Higgystar
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prompt from the kink meme: Sometimes Daryl just needs Merle to take care of him in the most basic of ways.</p>
            </blockquote>





	This game we play in silence

They’ve never really had anything nice before. His whole life Daryl has been used to having half broken things in the house that barely worked but they couldn’t afford to replace. He was used to hand me down clothing, having his hands chapped and skin cracked from hunting through the woods and really he’d grown up learning how to live with this harsh lifestyle. Both he and Merle were used to it by now, having to scrape by and survive as well as you could.

Their lives were a mix of bar fights and rough words, shady deals and getting filthy dirty hunting for just something to eat for once. Sure sometimes there were days that were better than others, when they had power and the fridge was actually full for once, but those instances were few and far between meaning they were used to the toughness of life.

It doesn’t mean that he enjoys it though. Sure Daryl could get by and he knew how to care for himself if need be but the thing was, sometimes he didn’t want to have to depend on no one but himself. It’s stupid and he hates himself for thinking it, but there are moments that he wishes that someone else could take control.

They don’t speak about it. Not ever. There’s never been a single word between them about it at all and Daryl is grateful for that. He doesn’t think he could cope with it if Merle made it common knowledge but he knows his brother is just as much a part of it as he is. It’s one of those things he just needs every so often, a craving that burns inside of him until he gets what he wants if only just for a while. He figures it’s kind of like Merle with the drugs, a desperate need and want until finally you get your desire and can relax again.

Only his craving wasn’t for drugs or drink or even anything illegal it was just for something he’d never really had. Their lives were full of roughness but the one thing Daryl needed sometimes was a softness he couldn’t ever remember getting before.

The hunt was a bust and he feels exhausted, dragging his worthless ass back home and barely giving a grunt of greeting to where Merle is slumped on the couch with a beer. He’s filthy, covered in sweat and the stench of nature, a man just come in from a hard day’s hunt and smelling of roughness and filth. He hates it all and the shower can’t get rid of the feeling from his skin quick enough.

Daryl doesn’t know how he knows but he does and it’s moments like this where he tries not to let himself think too much about it all. Instead he tries not to think at all, to just let his body and mind shut down and do what it wanted for a while to make him feel better. He needs this. Not very often but on days like this where he’d been rough all day, crawling over the dirt and cursing into the air about his lot in life, he just needed this for a while. He didn’t know if he deserved it, but he wanted it and right now that was enough.

Drying himself off as quickly as he can he keeps a towel around his waist before padding into the main room, biting on his lower lip and unable to look at Merle for the moment. This was the worst part, stepping over that line was difficult because it was the tipping point of it all. Once the line was crossed there was no going back and though he craved it more than anything there was always the fear of Merle saying no. Rocking on his heels he grabs at the towel with one hand and nibbles on the nail of his thumb with the other, feeling foolish and needy but knowing that he needs to say the words or nothing will happen.

For what its worth he thinks Merle knows what’s coming, because his brother doesn’t call him out on his fidgeting or even smirk at him for once. Instead he sits quietly and waits, sometimes Daryl wondered if his brother knew him better than he knew himself. Swallowing back the worry he traces a toe across the carpet, focussing on that instead of looking up to his brother when he finally finds the words he’s desperate to say. “Want my Mer-Mer.”

It’s out in the open now and there’s only two ways it could go. Everything inside of him prays for Merle to play along this time and give him what he needs because the shame of being refused feels like too much to bear right now. When Merle stands from the couch he shifts away a little, afraid of his reaction and ready to make a quick exit if he had to.

When a rough and callused hand reaches out to cup his face Daryl flinches instinctively, but glances up to meet his brother’s eyes just the same. “You want some milk baby brother?”

He sighs in relief, letting a small smile cross his lips as he nods to Merle in answer, feeling himself relax as the game begins. It was so much easier like this and with Merle playing along he didn’t have to worry about anything. Once the game started life was easier, and on days like this he just needed to have this sometimes. When things have been tough and dirty, filled with stress and leaving him feeling far too in control to be comfortable. He needed Merle right now to take it all away from him and let him ignore the roughness of their lives if only for a moment.

Merle is used to their routine and he even gives a little smile before reaching up to ruffle at Daryl’s still damp hair, making him feel smaller than usual but in a good way. “Alright why don’t we go get you dressed and I’ll make you one?” His brother asks, but he already knows the answer and Daryl can feel the surge of want within him grow at the thought.

Daryl doesn’t talk much when they play, it doesn’t feel right to talk so instead he ends up nodding in reply, chewing on his thumbnail and holding out a hand to Merle in silent question. Rough and calloused fingers reach out to his, holding his hand softly and tugging for him to follow, leading him through their shitty run down house to Daryl’s bedroom. In an ideal world Daryl wouldn’t have to walk at all and he can remember when he was small enough for Merle to carry him when he was a kid, but it wasn’t an option now he was fully grown so they make do.

His room is small and the usual mess but Merle doesn’t hesitate in searching for what they want, dropping Daryl’s hand and falling to his knees to hunt beneath the bed. They ain’t got a lot for their games, they can’t afford much anyway so they couldn’t waste money on something not necessary, but they had a few things they’d acquired over the years.

He finds himself hopping a little in place, biting on his thumb and wanting Merle to hurry up and get him dressed quicker so they could get to the best part. As soon as Merle sets the box on the bedspread he’s pressing closer to his brother, enjoying the closeness and the way Merle chuckles at his behaviour. They were more playful when they were like this, Merle didn’t get mad over every little thing and he was too busy feeling cared for to get angry. Things were easier when he didn’t have to think and he could just give in for a while so as soon as Merle has the box open he’s lifting his arms in the air for him.

“Hold your horses there baby brother.” Merle chuckles, and Daryl adores the nicknames when he’s like this. It helps him feel less dirty and scruffy, he can’t be so coarse and rough around the edges when he was a baby brother, because baby brothers were soft and sweet and needed caring for. “Get your underwear on first.”

Huffing a little he snatches up the briefs Merle is holding out to him. They’re not really anything special, but they’re not his usual preference of boxers and they remind him of kids underwear in a way. Quickly he slips them on beneath the towel before removing it, arms back in the air and waiting for Merle to hurry up with the rest of it. When Merle grabs the baby blue tee shirt from the box Daryl is eager to get it on, moving closer to Merle and almost sighing in delight as the fabric is pulled over him by his brother.

It shouldn’t feel so different from his regular clothes, but they are all the same. The tee shirt is soft, not washed so often and not worn for days in a row until it stinks. The colour isn’t stained with dirt or animal blood, it’s a soft and pale colour, the kind newborn babies would be dressed in. It’s dumb, he knows he can’t feel the colour in any way, but sometimes it really feels like he does. The blue is soft on his skin, not clinging to him with sweat like his normal clothes do, but hanging a little loose over his frame, enough to hang over his hips. It almost feels like becoming someone else, someone smaller, someone who needs looking after since they were so soft in colour and far too clean and unbroken to be in their house.

“There we go, doesn’t that feel better?” Merle coos to him, and Daryl loves when his big brother’s voice changes into something so much less harsh than usual. There’s no sneer or hidden meaning behind the words, instead Merle is caring, the big brother he had years ago when he’d awake from nightmares in the early hours of the morning. Merle’s hands runs down his sides for a moment, stroking over the fresh fabric and Daryl presses into his chest, enjoying the warmth of his arms and of feeling secure. Nodding against Merle’s chest he lets his thumb slip into his mouth, an old habit never forgotten cropping back up during their game and helping him feel better.

Merle strokes through his hair for a moment, just swaying side to side, almost rocking him gently and just enjoying the closeness for a moment. When his brother begins to hum to him Daryl smiles around his thumb, squirming a little until he can reach out his free arm to the box and make a grabbing motion for what he wants. It should feel pathetic to act this way, but it doesn’t and when Merle hands him the blanket from the box he doesn’t care even if it is pathetic.

Giving a sigh of contentment he holds the blanket to his cheek, rubbing his face of the softness of the fabric and enjoying how it felt. It was a soft fleece, the kind used for expensive stuffed toys and baby blankets like this, a matching pale blue with his tee shirt for baby boys and it was perfect. He didn’t know where Merle had found it and he never asked, but ever since Merle first gave it to him they’ve never had a game without it. It’s a part of this as much as they both are and he can’t imagine feeling this comfortable without it.

The box gets left on the bed, wide open and waiting for their toys to be tucked away after they were done, Merle takes his hand again and leads him back into the main room. Padding along behind him Daryl finds it difficult to juggle holding Merle’s hand, clutch the blanket to himself and suck his thumb, in the end he stumbles to the couch and Merle helps him curl up in his usual spot. “Mer-Mer, wan’ my milk.” He pouts a little around his thumb, uncaring of his lisp and smirking a little when Merle chuckles at the sound of him.

“Alright baby brother you have to be patient.” Merle coos again, leaning down to rub their noses together in an Eskimo kiss, making Daryl squeak a little in delight. He adores his brother always, but when they were like this it was easier and there was no fear of being rejected for acting like a pussy. Still he pouts a little when Merle moves away to get everything sorted.

Grabbing the remote Daryl focuses on flicking through the channels, trying to find something for them to get lost in together. Days like this they didn’t always need to talk, sometimes it was easier to just watch a movie and enjoy the closeness and he knew it made it easier for Merle to relax if he had something else to focus on. Leaving the channel on an action movie of some kind he grins when Merle slumps down on the couch beside him, handing over the last item from their box.

Taking the warmed bottle of milk he curls up against Merle’s chest, letting his brother settle an arm around him and hold him close in their usual position on days like this. Knotting his fist in his blanket he rests it against his cheek, feeling the softness there as he slips the teat of the bottle into his mouth, letting the warmth of the milk fill his mouth before slipping down to his belly. Letting out a happy sigh he rests against Merle as he drinks, enjoying the warmth of them being pressed together and how safe he feels right now.

In this moment right here he’s not forced to think about how he was going to survive for the next week or if he could find enough money to keep the bills paid. He doesn’t care about when their dad will make an appearance again or how he can avoid him because right now he’s not in control of those situations. Right now he was just Merle’s baby brother and he didn’t have to think about anything except for how comfortable and secure he felt. He knows Merle enjoys it too, these few moments where they both just relax and forget about the rest of the world, letting themselves go back to simpler times when they didn’t have to think about any of the bullshit the world threw at them nowadays.

Merle reaches out a hand to his tummy, stroking over it softly as he drinks and hums in his ear as the TV plays on in the background. It’s nothing much, just a moment, a small game for the two of them and Daryl knows that tomorrow morning they won’t speak of it. The box will be repacked away and tucked under his bed, there won’t be any evidence of this ever happening and they won’t say a word about it. But right now it’s perfect and everything he needs after a shit day.

They ain’t never had much, but sometimes you didn’t need a lot to make yourself feel better.


End file.
